crystal

I frequently look back to when I was younger, listening to my album of the summer and singing along while running the desert. I was sheltered and carefree. I had no idea in a few short years I would be all on my own.

I didn’t have any pain. I hadn’t yet uncovered the emotional pain and damage inflicted on me. I had not yet been thrown through a gauntlet of life challenges. And I did not yet have any chronic injuries or susceptibility to injuries. I recall being able to run and my feet would always land upright. Never rolled my ankles.

But now I have accumulated a lifetime of injuries and pains. Now I roll my ankles just taking 10 steps outside. Now I have carpal tunnel syndrome, my fingers hurt from being bitten hundreds of times, I endure constant ringing in my head, my knees crack every time I bend them too far, my left hamstring never fully healed after my accident, and I’ll never know if my brain returned to normal or if I just accepted my new normal.

The thing about chronic pain is that any one moment may not be severe pain, but it wears on me. Every. Day. There is no escape. Worse yet, I can only accumulate more things that aren’t quite right, but I have no faith in our medical system. They treat me like a hypochondriac.

I grew up watching my mom be on painkillers and that’s part of why I never want to take any. Her body was acclimated to taking pain medicine so she needed stronger stuff for her chronic pain. I watched her take so many painkillers over the years to manage her pain. Multiple times per day, every day, for years. I didn’t don’t want to be like that. I don’t want to need medicine like that. It’s not that I don’t think she’s in pain, I just want to be able to manage the pain on my own for as long as I’m able.

The other reason I never want to take any painkillers is what I’m too scared to admit to anyone.

When I was younger I had a bottle of painkillers from my wisdom teeth extraction. I never took them for the wisdom teeth pain and instead took them for fun. There was so much stuff I wasn’t allowed to do in the cult, but here I had a reason to take the medicine, so why shouldn’t I?

It was still pretty recent from the extraction, but there was no pain anymore. I took the pills in the car before I entered the house. It was far enough away that I’d be spending the night. I don’t remember much other than I know I was out of it enough that I couldn’t consent. We watched some movie with either twin on my side. At some point one of them was on top of me. I remember thinking that it would have been any guy’s dream, but I was fully in the cult and I didn’t want it. And yet, I didn’t, or couldn’t, say no. At one point the other left, but we didn’t stop. I got on top and continued. My leg scraped against the bedframe for what seemed like hours and eventually my leg started bleeding but I didn’t feel it. It wasn’t until the next morning that we noticed.

The experience left me with a 4 inch scar on my leg that lasted more than a decade before it fully healed. A scar to remind me of being sexually assaulted. Emotionally I accepted it and moved on, but I had that reminder every time I looked at myself in the mirror, or when someone inevitably asked about it which was an at least weekly occurrence.

I never told anyone I was sexually assaulted out of fear of being laughed at or not believed. I mean I was hard, and I did get on top at one point. Never mind that they both knew I was on painkillers, and they were not. They knew my beliefs– they had been taught them too, but they knew I took it all more seriously. It’s not a memory I cherish, and I wish I had lost it along with everything else.

The thing is, had I been able to consent, I would’ve done some of the things. I liked her, but at the time I liked God more. And I trusted myself to be able to say no when I was of my right mind.

I don’t know if she ever became aware of the consent issue. I hope that if she did, she was able to move on, too.

So why did I take the pills? I don’t know. I guess I just thought it would be fun, but this wasn’t what I had had in mind. I guess I didn’t think about it too much beforehand. I was young and dumb.

In the years since, whenever I get pain medicine, I take the bottle in case I need them, but I never take the pills. I haven’t taken them after any of my surgeries and instead just return them unused. I know that I could take them, but I don’t want to need them, and I don’t to risk getting addicted or my body acclimated. It was just one bottle for seldom use when I was younger, but I did misuse them. I trust myself more now, but if I can bear the pain then I can do that instead.